I would've followed all the way to the graveyard.
•
(Y/n) Stark
The two of us look miserable like we're 5 minutes from death. The plan is to go back to the hotel without raising suspicions about injuries. Peter's fucked nose won't help so he'll walk behind me with a hat, I'll put on sunglasses to cover the cut on the cheekbones.
"(Y/n)... where are we now...?" He asks, still very much intoxicated.
"Heading back to the hotel. All we need to do is get back inside our room. Just act normal— fuck..." I feel the bleeding in my stomach is not stopping and everything I see seems unclear.
"Holy shit, you're bleeding like a lot..." He says.
"No shit."
"We need to get you to the hospital." He trips over air. "And me too."
"Never go to the hospital after you kill someone. You will go to jail right after. Now I know you're high but take that as a lesson yeah?"
He laughs. "I'm being trained by a killer, I'll be a magnificent killer."
I sigh, then wrap my arm around him as we get into the lobby.
My blood drips on the floor, I hope nobody notices. Peter stumbles around, at least it makes me look like I'm carrying a drunk boyfriend back.
I've managed to get into the elevator without the receptionist girl saying anything. I press our floor when two old couples walk to us and try to get in.
I pull Peter into a passionate kiss.
The old couples back away in fear of teenagers kissing like it's an act of demon. The elevator's door closes.
I pull away and sigh, wipes my sweats off. I look at Peter, he froze, and he's still freezing.
"Pete!" I yell at him. He's still stunned at that kiss. "I can't risk them coming in with us, so I kissed you to keep them out."
"I... get that." He says slowly. "But I definitely catch feelings there."
"You are my stalker! You dummy! You caught feelings for me a long time ago. Swear to Lucifer I'll never let you touch alcohol again!"
The door opens up. I drag him to our room, but as we get closers I fall and cough out blood. Sharp pain sends across my body from the wound in my stomach.
"Shit... come here, I gotcha..." Peter lifts me bridal style.
Even though he's drunk and all he isn't injured much. He manages to get me inside and locks our door. We approach the living room, on the left is my room, on the right is Peter.
"Put me on the couch and give me my red bag."
He does as I say, but I know I'm going to pass out and die very soon. So I need to pass this onto him.
"Pete. Listen carefully."
"Ya—yeah?" He doesn't seem too focused. I don't know why I'm carrying him around...
